The Case of the Surprise Party
by aohitomi
Summary: John attempts to stage a surprise party for Sherlock.  But it doesn't turn out as expected.  GEN.


The Case of the Surprise Party

When John woke up Sherlock was already out. Which was unusual for him. Usually he'd be moping around the living room, lips pursed, fingers steepled, waiting for some flash of intuition or a call from Lestrade. But today he was out. Which was a good thing, since John had plans that he had no intention of letting Sherlock know about. He felt proud that he had been able to keep it a secret for so long. So far, Sherlock hadn't appeared to notice anything strange was going on. And John was determined to keep it that way.

He noticed a folded piece of paper on the table in the kitchen. The words "nice try" were written in Sherlock's meticulous hand. As John read the note, he put his hand on his head. The man was a brutal genius.

"Well so much for that," he thought. He might as well head over to Sarah's and tell her the bad news. He grabbed his jacket off the rack and went to catch a cab.

"Well that was a waste of time." John walked up the stairs to Sarah's flat. "He already figured it out."

Sarah came out of the kitchen where she had been slicing tomatoes. "Well you tried. Isn't that enough? And really, you thought you could throw a surprise party for the man who knows everything?" John took off his coat and slumped into the couch.

"I like a good challenge," John grumbled.

"Well he probably wouldn't have appreciated it anyway." Sarah went back to the kitchen.

"Smells good. What are you making?"

"Oh I was just making an omelet. Would you like one?"

"Sure. Though I should head over to the office soon. It's just you and me today isn't it?"

"Yes," Sarah said with a smirk. "Yes it is." She came over and kissed him on the cheek. He pulled out Sherlock's note unfolded it and read it over. It was thorough, and incredibly annoying.

_Dear John,_

_While I do appreciate your attempt to throw a surprise party in my honor, you have made some glaring errors in judgement that I felt a strong need to bring to your attention._

_First and foremost, I know the date of my own birthday and I am immediately suspicious of any activity that surrounds it. For that reason, I tend to be particularly sensitive to ice cream and cake that suddenly appear in the refrigerator. Your response that the cake was for "an office party" was less than satisfactory. In the future, you may wish to avoid the question all together._

_Your sudden correspondence with my brother was also suspect. He is constantly trying to get me to celebrate my birthday and every year he pretends to be interested. Perhaps he thinks it will get me to "lighten up." You should know that you have a look of surprise on your face when Mycroft sends you a text. His preference tends to emails. And you have received at least twelve texts from him in the past three days. I know because I checked your messages._

_Finally you should know that, while I respect your attempt to use "code" in your correspondence with Sarah and my brother, calling my birthday "the event" is a fairly obvious method of concealment. Perhaps "the catastrophe" would have been a more appropriate term._

_Also would you mind picking up some eggs and grape jelly from the Tesco? I need them for an experiment. Don't worry, I'll clean up after myself._

_-Sherlock._

Sarah peeked out from the kitchen. "We should just throw him a party anyhow. Who cares if it's a surprise. Mycroft would be pleased."

"Sherlock wouldn't," said John.

"Come on. At least you can enjoy the look on his face. Maybe it will be a surprise after all." She came back to the couch with two plates of delicious smelling eggs. They kissed again and sat down to watch the morning news before they had to go off to work.

John considered Sarah's proposal. And then he imagined the look on Sherlock's face. The look of confusion, the look that said he hadn't had an actual birthday in years. He smiled, a slow drawn out smile.

"Meet you at my place after work? I'll have to stop by the store to grab some groceries, but I should be back by six."

"Of course."

Sherlock came in at eight. He was famished after a long day of working a murder case. He had been able to deduce the killer's identity, but there wasn't enough evidence to make a case against him. He still had work to do. Thoughts raced through his mind, but he was starting to feel queasy which meant it was time to eat.

He decided he would eat dinner and then skip out again to continue canvassing the murderer's flat. He went into the kitchen and nearly slipped on a patch of grape jelly. He had been meaning to clean it, but the case came first. It was dark but he knew his way around without needing a light.

Someone flipped the light switch on.

"Surprise!" Sherlock jumped. He had been expecting John to forget the whole thing after his note.

Standing there in the parlor were DI Lestrade, Mycroft, John and Sarah. And they were holding a birthday cake. Chocolate ganache with dark chocolate frosting purchased from the bakery down the street by the look of it.

He was not about to refuse a cake, his favorite kind being chocolate. Even if it meant having to blow out candles and suffer his brother's presence. He smiled. "You really shouldn't have."

They sat in the parlor swapping stories of birthdays past. "You should have seen him when he was little. He loved birthdays, and presents. Then it all went wrong from there," Mycroft said with a laugh.

"You're one to talk, Mycroft. I remember you nearly inhaled your cake on your fifth birthday. You're on your third piece now."

"Well I've never been one to turn down cake," he said and lifted his fork with a smile. "Cheers!" he said and downed the bite in one gulp.

Sarah and John were sitting together and she whispered to him, "Aren't you glad you did this?"

"The man is insufferable, but even he deserves a birthday." Sarah smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Then she stood up and went into the kitchen. She brought out another bottle of wine and a small delicately wrapped box.

"We thought we'd get you something." She handed the box to Sherlock.

"As a gift for all your help these past years," Lestrade added.

Sherlock looked at the box as if it were a foreign object. "A present?"

"Yes a present. You know one of those things that people give to each other. On special occasions. It's also called a gift," said John and they laughed.

"Go ahead, open it," Mycroft said. "It's from all of us."

Sherlock unwrapped the box. He took out the cotton from the inside and pulled out a golden pocket watch. He examined it. It was at least fifty years old, in good condition but bought second hand. The engraving on the side read "Holmes."

"Grandfather's watch?"

"I thought you should have it. It's been a while since I looked at it. And it reminded me of you." Sherlock wound the watch.

"It still works." He sounded surprised. And then there were no words. A small tear, too small for anyone else to see glinted in his eye, and then he smiled. "Thank you Mycroft."

"We also got you this," Sarah handed him a box. It was the latest model Samsung phone. "We thought you'd put it to good use."

Sherlock laughed. "Is that the only thing you think I do, text?"

"Yeah pretty much," John said. "And you know I'm right. I've received over a hundred texts from you in the past month. I know because I checked my messages."

Sherlock smirked and they sat down to drink the last bottle of wine.

It was ten thirty. Mycroft had left and Lestrade had to go home to his family. That left John and Sarah. Sherlock was eager to get back to his case, now that the festivities were winding down.

"I should get back to my case now. Care to join me John?"

John looked at Sarah.

"It really is quite a fascinating case. We need to gather more evidence and having another pair of eyes would be, er, helpful."

"Why don't you go, John. I'll see you at the office tomorrow. Just promise me you won't fall asleep."

John smiled and kissed her goodnight. Sherlock had already flounced out of the room down the stairs to the cab. John grabbed his coat and ran after. "Wait Sherlock," he yelled.

In the cab, Sherlock turned to John.

"You didn't have to do that, really. I'm sorry if Mycroft put you up to it."

"He didn't." They sat in silence for a few minutes. John was looking out the window absent-mindedly watching the lights pass.

"Thank you."

"What?" John thought he might not have heard him correctly. He turned to face his companion.

"Thank you, John. It's been a long time since anyone's been that kind to me. Aside from Mrs. Hudson, and sometimes I think she just feels obligated to help a perpetual bachelor in need."

"You're welcome, Sherlock." The cab reached it's destination and the two of them got out. They walked to an alley behind an abandoned building. Sherlock jumped a fence and John stumbled over it. Sherlock was already yards ahead, and when John caught up, he said,

"Now let me explain the case so far..."

THE END.


End file.
